


Citrus Friend

by Phoenixgriffin260



Category: Gourmet Hound (Webcomic)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Gift Giving, Hospitals, Idiots in Love, Light Angst, Quincy and meyer share one brain cell, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-23
Updated: 2019-05-23
Packaged: 2020-03-09 21:15:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18925171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phoenixgriffin260/pseuds/Phoenixgriffin260
Summary: “I’ve learned nothing. Apparently, I love repeating the same mistakes over and over.” He turns and hisses, glaring down at the gift stationed perfectly on the edge of the bed.Meyer never learned, and he knew that himself.Still, a gift is a gift is something he never got.





	Citrus Friend

At some time during the day, a gift had appeared on the doorstep of his hotel, with a neat little note addressing itself to a person called 'Meyer' with a tiny doodle of a lemon next to his name- something that made him roll his eyes, although he took the gift anyway. 

It was going to be a stupid prank; or, like last time, a rotting rat that (although he dare not think about it) sent him to hospital for a broken elbow (Meyer remembers the tears and the fact that it burned, burned more than anything before had). 

 

It wouldn't be nice, and he wouldn't make that mistake again. 

 

He promised himself. 

 

\-----

 

Meyer found that he was never good at keeping promises.

Sat, legs folded with phone trapped between, and the gift ever sliding centimeter by centimeter nearer to the edge of the bed- his mind, of course, was as blank as the gift's wrapping wasn't. 

He huffs, standing and glaring at the glittery packet before him like it had personally offended him. 

“I’ve learned nothing. Apparently, I love repeating the same mistakes over and over.” He turns and hisses, glaring down at the gift stationed perfectly on the edge of the bed- he refused to notice the shaking of his breath, or the trembling of his hand. 

Still, he takes his boxcutter and slides the blade down the side of the gift with all the precision of a pastry chef. 

 

In an instant, something tumbles out (and Meyer hates that he winced), but when nothing terrible happens- once, like the unfortunate present of a glitterbomb- he inches towards towards it.

He slices, gently, the rest of the wrapping away from the packet. 

 

A small, flimsy box (as so not the damage the insides; he had worked enough in the jobs of delivery to know what it was) and a letter neatly folded. 

Meyer takes the letter, touch soft and strangely small. 

The writing is looped, dotted with hearts and crossed with elegant waves, but he can finally smile- 

For, at the end, italic and pink, was the simple end of  _Sincerely, Quincy ❤._

**Author's Note:**

> Throws my love at a rarepair


End file.
